


Who's in Charge, Here?

by GeneralRADIX



Category: Marathon (Video Games)
Genre: Androids, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 01:10:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralRADIX/pseuds/GeneralRADIX
Summary: Sometimes Durandal needs to be reminded that Vince is not entirely passive.





	Who's in Charge, Here?

**Author's Note:**

> I had a longer, more elaborate setup for all this, before realizing that it was more suited to regular fluff (and was written like this was the first time these two had gotten intimate, which it wasn't supposed to be). So you get this instead. :U

Vince wasn't really sure how this got started. There was a singular event that stuck out in his mind, but damned if he understood what actually led to Durandal ranting about how Vince was “his” and no one else's, with many an insinuation that Durandal was the dominant force in this relationship. Maybe Vince let slip that Volker was his ex.

He wasn't angry or anything, and he was very used to Durandal's ego by now, even as their years spent living together softened it considerably. But clearly, his boyfriend was in dire need of a reality check.

The opportunity came for it the next night, when Durandal entered Vince's quarters for some intimacy. In theory, because whatever plans he had in mind apparently flew out the moment he got settled on Vince's torso.

Vince let it go to the three-minute mark before poking Durandal in the thigh. “What's the holdup?”

“I—ah...” Durandal looked away sheepishly. “I'm not sure how to start this time.”

“Really?” Something about this was more amusing than it should've been. “You make such a big deal out of how you could bend me over the counter--”

“I didn't say that.”

“--you ask me if I want to make love tonight,” Vince continued, “and now all you can do is sit on my stomach and fidget. Captain of one of the most infamous ships in known space, everyone.”

That got an annoyed huff out of Durandal, but not much else. After another minute of indecision, Vince moved both of his hands up to Durandal's waist and gripped lightly.

“Yannow, dude,” he said, “it's _really_ not a good idea to try my patience.”

Durandal raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Why is that?”

“Because I might do this.”

In a single motion, Vince rolled out of his spot and flipped Durandal onto his back.

The resulting sight was a pleasant one, once Durandal got over being startled. Dark hair spilling out across the pillow, slim body laid out bare and vulnerable beneath him...Usually, Vince only got to see him like this after their latest session was over, and that rarely involved pinning him down.

“Let's keep this simple.” Vince leaned in slightly closer, careful not to shift too much of his weight onto Durandal's arms. “I'm gonna have my way with you, and I won't hold back. But only if you think you can handle it.”

“Are you implying that I can't?”

“You seem to have some trouble on most of our nights together.” The indignant look that briefly crossed Durandal's face was priceless. “So is that a 'yes'?”

Durandal nodded, then looked away and muttered, “You'd better not disappoint.”

That elicited a chuckle. “Pretty sure I won't.”

Force of habit made Vince start off slow, settling into a position where he could comfortably kiss the side of his boyfriend's throat; as he worked on the spot, he felt Durandal wrap his arms around his torso and begin to squirm a little bit, then heard him say, “You're gonna leave a mark if you keep up like that...”

“That was the idea,” Vince muttered into Durandal's throat.

A light shiver from feeling warm breath against a sensitive area, then a groan. “Lh'muria teasing me about it was bad enough the first time.”

An idea crossed Vince's mind, and he propped himself back up. “Well, there's no rule that they have to be on your neck,” he said and, when Durandal offered no protest, maneuvered down to his stomach to resume kissing.

He took his time, especially whenever he found a particularly delicate spot and Durandal involuntarily tensed under his mouth; when he reached Durandal's chest, he slid a hand down between the inner join of his boyfriend's thighs and body and began rubbing with one finger to try and entice a moan out of Durandal. All he got was a little half-groan and some very poor attempts at stifling the rest.

That was easily fixed.

Vince shifted up to rest his head in the hollow of Durandal's throat, hooked one arm under his body, and began grinding against the sensitive spot with his knuckles. The effect was immediate: Durandal let out a loud, deep gasp and arced his back, gripping Vince so tightly that he was certain he was going to end tonight with a few bruises of his own.

Somewhere in between all his desperate gasping and moaning, Durandal managed to pant out, “Keep going!” and Vince worked on that area in earnest until he was fairly certain Durandal was starting to go lightheaded, all the while enjoying the way his boyfriend's abs kept jumping up against his chest, all the fidgeting with his arms and the sensation of his heart battering against his ribs. Vince didn't know if the Obatala Institute deliberately engineered their android vessels to have such organic responses to stimulation, but he wasn't complaining.

He waited until Durandal sounded about ready to hit his limit, then withdrew his hand and propped himself up, causing Durandal to blearily open one eye in confusion.

“Wh-why...” His voice sounded so faint. “Why'd you stop?”

In response, Vince hefted Durandal into a sitting position and guided his hands downward. “It's either now, or when you're too tired to move,” was his excuse.

Luckily, Durandal understood what was being asked of him; he carefully wrapped his hands around Vince's dick—already half-erect from all the activity—and began rubbing, shakily at first but soon building up enough friction to send sparks up and down Vince's spine.

He reached around and drew Durandal as close as he could, with the other hand going up to another too-close circuit junction on the back of his neck to keep him motivated; in turn, Durandal nuzzled Vince's throat and inadvertently—or maybe not—gave him another internal jolt.

“Ah--” It sounded like Durandal could barely get his voice around his own heaving breaths. “I'll have to—remember this for n-next time...”

“Next time?” Vince was having some difficulty keeping his voice steady, himself.

“When you're not home...”

If he hadn't accidentally cut himself off with a groan, Vince would've laughed. All that talk about how he was above such base, primal human desires, and Durandal still got lonely on nights when Vince was off on business?

Vince held out as long as he could, grip on Durandal's side gradually tightening—man, it felt so soft that any more force might bruise it—until delicate fingers brushed against a certain spot and he finally came, leaning heavily on Durandal for support while his body finished with its little fits and twitches.

As he caught his breath, he felt Durandal nudge his shoulder. “P-please—I can't do it myself--”

Upon looking down, Vince saw what he meant. At least none of the mess had gotten on the sheets…

He reached between Durandal's thighs and got back to work; it didn't take much stroking before Durandal shuddered and cried out in ecstasy (goodbye, Vince's ears). Had Vince not been holding him, he might've collapsed onto the bed.

“You know something, dude?” Vince cupped the back of Durandal's head in his hand. “You're pretty cute when you're begging like that.”

He heard a very quiet huff, but no further objection; the two of them sat in silence for a moment, Durandal resting and Vince admiring the afterglow. Eventually, Durandal managed to sit upright and unsteadily rose to his feet, very conspicuously trying not to look at the mess in his hands. “Um—I'll be right back...”

–

The only experience comparable to making love was climbing into bed afterward, with nothing else but each other, the warm sheets, and the calm, familiar darkness of what constituted nighttime on the _Rozinante_.

Vince listened to Durandal ramble on about the day's events that he hadn't been privy to, mostly involving ship-keeping and getting pulled aside to witness F'sari's latest mycological excursion. At some point he went quiet; Vince, not wanting to disturb him in case he'd fallen asleep, just shifted around a bit and got ready to sleep himself when he heard Durandal murmur, “Is this about what I said yesterday?”

That jolted Vince back awake. “Huh?”

“I didn't mean most of it. Hell, I don't even really remember what prompted it.” Durandal gently stroked Vince's fingers. “You weren't offended, were you?..”

“Of course not, dude!” Had the A/C kicked on, or was that just ice dropping into Vince's gut? “It was—I—I dunno...d-dumb pride, maybe?..”

It certainly was dumb, when he put it like that.

At least, it seemed good enough for Durandal, judging by the lighter tone of his voice. “Well, in that case, I think I'll have to pay you back next time.”

Vince laughed, and relaxed a bit. “Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“It wouldn't be nearly as effective if I told you, now, would it?”

With that, Durandal nuzzled his face into the pillow and, in a few minutes, fell asleep for real. Vince followed suit, satisfied in more ways than one.


End file.
